


Fool's Gold

by myriddin



Series: Fools [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Babies, Dubious Morality, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Marriage of Convenience, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Scheming, Sharing Body Heat, Targaryen Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: Rhaegar Targaryen's selfishness threatenes to plunge the realm into war once more. As his children work to stablize the precarious situation, his younger son, Jon, finds himself more deeply entwined with his father's most vulnerable victims than he ever thought possible.





	Fool's Gold

Jaegon Targaryen’s feelings for Sansa Stark did not begin as love at first sight.

He first arrived at Winterfell a morose boy of five, reeling from the death of the only mother he had ever known. Despite his withdrawn grief, she and Robb made fast friends, Robb being the first to give Jaegon the moniker of “Jon”, different from his siblings and aunt’s affectionate “Jae” but no less appreciated and pleasing. Jon was warier of the younger Sansa- innocence personified as a pretty, copper-curled girl of two, little more than a babe, but it was because of a babe that Mama Elia was gone, that he had been taken far away from his home and separated from Dany, Egg, and Rhae.

Regardless of his reservations, however, little Sansa liked him just fine, and something about the genuineness of her affection softened his resentment. He had warmed to her considerably by the time Arya was born a year later, and while he adored Arya utterly, he never lost his soft spot for Sansa, even when he returned North for extended visits at nine and twelve, and his adolescent self agreed with Robb that their copper-haired tagalong had been replaced by a haughty little prig.

Still, nothing about those few shared years of their childhood prepared him to be anything but awkwardly befuddled the day Dany suddenly grabbed his arm in a corridor near the royal wing, dragging him without preamble to the queen’s apartments. She shushed any protest as she pulled him passed the guard at the door (Brienne of Tarth today, discreet and devoted, sworn to the royal children’s services since a tourney at Griffin’s Roost), and the “septa” in the solar, Rhaenys and Aegon’s cousin Tyene, who winked at him as Dany manhandled him into the bedchamber.

Since Sansa had hit the sixth moon of her pregnancy, his father had severely limited her movements around the castle ground, restricting her visitors down to the essential attendants and family, the latter consisting of Daenerys, Jon, and the Dornish retinue currently in the city (family enough through their connection to Egg and Rhae).

They entered the chamber to find Sansa lying in the center of the large bed, a warm blanket draped over her despite it being summer. Jon glanced toward his aunt in puzzled concern, but Daenerys only nonchalantly climbed onto the bed, scooting to lie beside Sansa. Sansa turned to face her and as her hair fell away from her visage, Jon could see she had been crying.

He frowned with concern, watching as Sansa sniffled and opened her red-rimmed eyes, lifting the corner of her blanketwhen she noticed Dany. Dany scooted closer without hesitation, entwining their hands atop Sansa's gravid stomach, tucking the blanket back around them. Dany shot an expectant look, one that left Jon feeling dumb as an aurouchs because she could not be suggesting what he thought she was.

However, Dany's expectation turned to exasperation the longer he hesitated, and when she impatiently gestured to him, his body moved to obey before he had formed a decisive thought, something ingrained into him since childhood. Jon had always been dutiful, loyal to a fault, content to follow his siblings and aunt's lead in all things as it would be they who ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and Jon who would serve them. Eyeing the bed's fine velvets and satins, Jon slipped out of his boots and the studded jerkin he was wearing (he had been heading to the practice yard when Dany commandeered him), climbing gingerly onto the bed in his simple linen tunic and buckskin breeches. Heedful of Dany's continuing glare, he edged closer to Sansa, able to see now thanks to their new proximity the trembling coursing through her body, and he finally understood his role.

He slid over until his chest met Sansa’s back, wrapping his arm around her waist. They were all still for a beat, and then she relaxed back against his solid warmth. He met Dany’s eyes over her head, softened now that Sansa seemed to be calming. Jon himself would have been annoyed with Dany making him a placeholder for his father if he was not so concerned for the mother-to-be, and utterly disgusted with his worthless sire.

“Didn’t I tell you, Sansa?” Dany said gently with a hint of a tease. “Jon radiates heat like no other. Not even his brother, and that one basks in sunlight more than a lizard in those deserts he loves so much.”

Sansa huffed out a quiet laugh, her free hand coming to rest on her stomach. The look on her face as she regarded the child she carried was so achingly, innately loving Jon felt something profound swell inside him.

Whether Sansa’s chills were the result of carrying blood of the dragon or a physiological response of emotional stress, Jon and Dany were uncertain, but after a few times of Dany shoving him into the role, Jon found himself again and again voluntarily sharing his time and body heat.

The more they talked, quietly laying together with Dany chaperoning somewhere nearby, the more Jon realized he had misjudged and underestimated the cousin he thought naïve and weak to have fallen for Rhaegar’s manipulations. The more they bonded, the more he saw the North in her: the steel in her spine, the ice in her veins, the fierce mother wolf hiding just beneath the surface.

The more time they spent together, the deeper he began to fall in love.

+++

_After Jon and Viserys’ fight during family dinner..._

Jon could feel his body trembling from the sheer force of his rage, pacing the corridor fervently around the corner from his uncle’s chambers. He was furious, heart pounding in his head as he went over and over the events of the last hour.

He wished more than anything than Sansa hadn’t seen him lose such complete control of himself. His sweet cousin was a gentle soul- it shamed him to think she would think less of him over his and Viserys’ violent display.

But oh, how his heart hurt to think of Sansa as a victim of his father’s machinations. Rhaegar was not only putting the whole of the realm at risk, but Sansa’s tender heart as well, all for a thrice-damned prophecy. Arryn, Stark, Tully, all three houses were in an uproar; the realm was fracturing, all because of Rhaegar’s selfishness.

Footfalls against the marble floor caused Jon to spin on his heel, blood roaring in his ears as Viserys stepped into view. Jon rushed for him with a deep growl of emotion, grabbing his uncle by the front of his jerkin and slamming him back against the nearest wall.

But there wasn’t any fear or even outrage to be found on Viserys’ face when Jon looked at him, only malicious glee. “Go ahead, bastard,” Viserys hissed. “Condemn yourself. Do you really think Rhaegar will abide anymore of your disgusting behavior?”

“Why do you support him?! Even when you know this will tear the realm apart?!”

Viserys’ eyes gleamed with malice. “Rhaegar is king of this realm. His authority is the absolute, and your filthy relations would do well to remember that. As should you, bastard. What would your precious Sansa think if she knew you wanted to take your father’s place in her bed?”

Jon’s face contorted with outrage…his hands literally shook with the force of his restraint, but still he managed to pull himself away, whirling away and stomping down the hall before he changed his mind.

Or worse yet, before he let himself think of how right Viserys was.

++

Unable to hold back any longer from what he knew needed to be, Jon rode out from King’s Landing before dawn had even reached the horizon, headed for Dragonstone.


End file.
